Stage Five

“Okay,” Carole-Lyne huffed, hands on her jersey-clad hips as she searched around the kitchen, “Numbers are on the fridge. Kody’s medicine is in the cabinet there - two teaspoons at bedtime, which is nine for the older two, eight-thirty for Zoe and whenever you can for the baby. I have some chicken nuggets in the freezer for supper-” She paused and huffed another breath. “Am I missing anything?”

Joanna shook her head, shifting Lola higher on her hip. “Not that I can think of.” It must have been the fifth time she’d babysat here and about the eighth time Carole-Lyne had repeated the same speech. Joanna had done the math many times, averaging 1.6 “This is Where Everything Is” speeches per gig.

“Okay, great.” Carole-Lyne reached for her purse on the counter and began rifling through it, double-checking that she had everything. “I’ll just be out to eat with the girls before the game and I’ll have my phone on me, so if anything happens please don’t hesitate to call.”

“I’m sure we’ll be just fine,” Joanna assured the worried mother, smiling at the eleven-month-old wriggling playfully in her arms.

“Oh,” Carole-Lyne added, pulling something from her purse - which was Coach, Joanna lustfully observed. “Sid’ll be dropping by to grab this a little later. It’s just his car charger or something; I’m sure he’ll be in-and-out before you can even see him, but just a heads up.”

Joanna nodded, though felt her ears perk at the hint of excitement. To her, it was a big enough deal babysitting a local sports star, but now she felt like she was really getting the best of both worlds.

“Alright,” Carole-Lyne sighed with finality, doing a once-over of the kitchen again, “I’m sure that’s it this time. We’ll be home after midnight. And like I said, if anything goes wrong - call.”

Joanna pulled out her most charming smile. “I promise,” she said with a nod. “Have a fun time!”

Carole-Lyne smiled over her shoulder to her young employee as she quietly slipped out the side door. Joanna did her best to obstruct Lola’s vision of her mother’s quick escape; Lola - still very much in the “mommy phase” - seemed to carry on better if she thought her mother had spontaneously vanished rather than abandon her with a stranger.

Shifting Lola higher on her hip still, Joanna grabbed the sippy-cup from the counter and headed for the living room. It was too nice out to keep the kids stuffed inside with the TV all day; besides, wearing out their energy now meant an easier bedtime later.

Because Joanna knew better than most that bedtime at the Dupuis’ was always a disaster.

---

Sid pulled the Range Rover into the empty driveway, almost halfway out the driver’s door before putting it in park. Four long strides later, he was already at the front door, letting himself in before knocking first. It was already ten after, which meant he had twenty minutes to get in, out and to the rink before he screwed up his pre-game ritual, even if he wasn’t playing that night.

The house was silent, but high squeals from the backyard told him it was still occupied. He didn’t bother looking for Carole-Lyne, thinking either she’d find him or he’d be there and gone before she could even notice.

He stepped into the empty, stainless-steel accented kitchen, his eyes swiftly rounding the counters before they came to rest on the coiled black wire sprawled over one corner of the island. But before he could grab it and leave, a creaking floorboard from the other side of the room made him stop.

A girl - young, but barely - was watching him meekly, her hands tangled in the hem of her pink t-shirt, which was sopping wet and suctioned against her frame in a very distinguishable way. Sid closed his fingers over his car charger, but kept them on the counter.

“Kody got a hold of the hose,” she explained in a single squeak, as if she owed him the excuse. Sidney just stared at the poor girl, for some reason unable to comprehend. She watched back, too, with wide honey-brown eyes. Her golden hair, pulled over one shoulder in a sloppy braid, was matted and dripping at the end.

“I just needed to stop by and grab this quick,” he explained in return, trying to keep his eyes on hers. They kept slinking back down to thin material of her shirt, revealing the dark colored bra beneath. Maybe he saw some lace, but he couldn’t quite tell.

The girl crossed her arms.

“I’ll-” he paused, his voice cracking like a pubescent fourteen-year-old’s, “I’ll be going then.”

Sid drew his gaze from her and marched from the room without a backward glance at the girl. She couldn’t have been over twenty, maybe sixteen at the least. The image of her - innocent, soaked and watching him timidly with those wide brown eyes - was glued to the walls of his brain, blinding his outside vision and making it increasingly hard to focus.

He reached his vehicle finally, getting in but not turning it on. Gripping the wheel but not moving to turn the key. He sat there frozen for a few moments, car charger sitting abandoned on his lap, and tried to make sense of what the hell had just went on.

His head was spinning, like he was dizzy, almost. Like when a pop is shook and the cap is turned just enough for the air to squeeze out - his head felt hot and full of pressurized steam. A pang of worry hit him like a fist to the stomach as he considered the feeling to be a symptom of his concussion - one step forward, seven steps back. But no, it wasn’t like that.

This was nothing like that, at all.

---

Joanna couldn’t have counted how long she stood there, frozen, in the kitchen. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes. Twenty at the most. She heard Zoe cry and call Kody out for hitting her, but failed to react. His gaze had turned her to stone.

Sidney Fucking Crosby.

Finally, Joanna was able to stagger forward, whipping a towel from the handle of the stone and pressing it against her torso. As she mopped herself, she leaned back against the island and turned her eyes to the window over the sink. A vehicle still sat in the driveway, Sidney’s probably. She watched as it rolled backward and drove away, keeping her gaze where it had disappeared for a long while.

He was much more gorgeous than he was in pictures. So much more. Hell, she’d even made it to a few of the Penguins’ home games, had seen him from the comfort of her nosebleed seating, and he still hadn’t had such an impact. Up close and personal so different, and so much better. She could have stood and stared at him all day if he would have allowed it.

Her teeth grazed over her bottom lip as she retraced those completely silent, completely awkward moments over and over. How his dark hair curled beneath his dirty baseball cap, how his shirt - a white v-neck - hugged his body in a very flattering manner. His lips were so much better in real life, too - like pillows waiting for her to lay her own on them-

She was really starting to get ahead of herself.

Fangirl lust thoughts aside, she swept the towel over her now-damp shirt one last time before heading outside, willing babysitter autopilot to take charge for her.

Because she certainly couldn’t.